Chapter Text
"Is it on? Is it on?" Deku asks excitedly, hopping up and down and up and down and up and down in all his four year old glory.
"It's on." Katsuki's mom says from behind the camera, a smile evident in her voice.
"Kacchan!" Deku calls, running out of frame. "We're on the air!"
A minute later, after extensive scuffling and scuttering is heard in the background, Deku walks back into frame, a fake mustache on his face and a series of papers held in his hands. A table and chair are set up - the tiny plastic ones Katsuki's parents had bought him when he started kindergarten. They're both green. It was Katsuki's favorite color at the time.
"Hello ladies and gentlemen," Deku says, in as serious and deep a voice as he can muster. He sounds stupid. "today, we're breaking news - about the new and epic Pro Hero that just..." He looks down at his notes. "...day-bu-t-ed."
"De-bu'ed!" Katsuki's mom whispers, out of frame.
"Yes, debuted. We have him here in the studio today, so lets all say thank you to the Great Epic Incredible Mighty Man, who so nicely came on to talk with me - a normal person." Deku continues.
Katsuki bursts into frame. He has a blanket tied around his shoulders as a cape, and his unruly hair is tied back into a single tiny ponytail. He liked it longer, back then. After his quirk manifested, he had it cut. The heat made it too frizzy, and the longer it was, the higher the chance of it catching fire. "Yes, you're welcome, reporter Izuku! I am... the GREAT INCREDIBLE and EPIC MIGHTY MAN, and I am here to tell you about it."
"Thank you. Sit down." Deku says, still putting on the air of a very serious reporter.
"The GREAT INCREDIBLE MIGHTY MAN- "
"And epic!" Deku whispers.
"The GREAT INCREDIBLE and EPIC MIGHTY MAN does not SIT."
"Be seated." Deku says again, and Katsuki huffs and sits down. "So, Great Incredible Epic Mighty Man, how has your day been?"
"My day has been epic. I fought a bunch of villains outside of your studio. They wanted me dead, but I defeated them. All... nine of them." He nods very seriously.
Deku nods back, just as seriously. His mustache starts to fall off. He presses it back on. "Yes, our safety is always better when you're here, Great Incredible and also Epic Mighty Man."
"What about you, normal reporter Izuku? How has your day been?"
"Oh, me? Well, I've had a very...normal...day. I got up. I came to work. I get to talk to you. Speaking of which, how does it feel being the Number One hero?"
"It feels right. All Might asked me for my autograph yesterday, and then we beat up a bunch of villains together."
"That's so cool! Thank you, Great Incredible and Epic Mighty Man! Now on to the weather..."
Katsuki's mom chuckles behind the camera, panning back in on Deku.
After a few moments, Katsuki appears in frame again, peering over Deku's shoulder at the flashcards he'd been holding. "They're blank."
"Yeah, I didn't really know what to write on them, but the people on TV always have cards, so I figured I should too." Deku says, shuffling through the small pile with a shrug.
"That's smart." Katsuki says, and then grins maniacally. "My turn to ask questions now."
"Okay!"
---
"C'mon, Izu. There's no point in recording if you're just gonna play in the mud." Katsuki's voice says.
"...skies are blue..." Deku is singing, as he jabs at the mud with a stick. It had just rained. "...and the dreams, that you dare to dream..." He looks up at the camera. A huge grin is plastered on his stupid muddy face. "...really do come true."
"Cut it out." Katsuki says, as he wipes a spatter of mud off of the camera lens.
"Aw, c'mon, Kacchan!" Deku says, running up to him in his silly raincoat and boots. "It's a rainy day, you can't spend it moping!"
"I dunno, Izu. I don't wanna get my camera all muddy."
"So put it on the fence! C'mon, I know you wanna. You wouldn't have put on your special muddy boots if you didn't." He looked so... excited. Happy. Comfortable.
After a moment, a laugh is heard from behind the camera, and it's repositioned to sit on a nearby fencepost. Katsuki runs into frame, his unruly hair spiking out in every direction as he charges.
Deku shrieks with laughter, running away with that stupid huge smile on his face. "Catch me if you can, Kacchan!"
They spend the rest of the video running around the park, giggling and playing and making muddy soups and tackling each other into the wet ground.
The whole video, Katsuki shares that same dumb smile.
It's still on his face when the tape runs out, a frame of him and Deku playing tag stuck on the screen.
He's it, reaching out to grab the back of Deku's All Might raincoat.
The video cuts out before he can reach.
---
"...3...2...1...ready or not, here I come!" Tsubasa calls, in the distance.
Katsuki and Deku giggle from behind the camera. It's completely dark on-screen - they were playing hide and seek. It was Katsuki's fifth birthday.
"Shh, Izu. You're gonna get us caughhtt." He whispers hoarsely.
"Shhh, yourself!"
"Found you, Aiko!" they hear, not too far away from the closet they are hiding in, under a pile of old blankets and toys (Deku had piled the stuff on top of him, and then crawled in himself).
"Aww, man. I thought for sure you'd pass me."
"What can I say, I'm epic!" Tsubasa says in reply. His voice is just outside the closet door. Deku tenses beside him.
After a minute of talking, the winged boy passes on, and they both let out sighs of relief.
Quiet again.
Perfect silence.
They're gonna win.
They're gonna win together.
"Ow, Kacchan, you're... ow!" Deku's voice. He starts to cry, yanking his hand out of Katsuki's.
Smoke.
Deku crying, pulling the blanket off of their heads.
The camera had cut off, then, but Katsuki remembers the rest like it was yesterday.
The closet door whips open, and Tsubasa's grinning face appears, ready to say that he'd found them, got them, they'd lost-
Katsuki watches Deku with wide eyes as the boy stands, holding his hand up to the light.
A redness in the palm of his hand, red at the middle and lighter as it starbursted outwards.
H e'd been burned.
He looks back at Katsuki, at Katsuki's hands. They were sweaty from hiding under the heavy blanket and toys, and... they're sparkling.
They're glowing in the darkness of the closet.
Tsubasa and the other boys start shrieking with joy, crowding around Katsuki as his hands began to crackle and pop with light.
Deku runs to Katsuki's mom, showing her the burn.
She'd put burn cream on it, then a towel and ice, and had him sit at the kitchen table. Then she went to Katsuki.
Later, after the commotion and excitement had died down somewhat and the other kids had left, Katsuki had gone up to Deku (He was still there. He was always the last one to leave).
For his part, Deku had been all excitement and bright, starry eyes, excited for Katsuki.
Always happy and always excited, asking a million questions a minute, completely forgetting about his burnt hand.
"Mom said I should say sorry." Katsuki says.
Deku startles. "For what?"
Katsuki looks at the ground. "Hurting your hand. I didn't mean'ta."
"Oh! That's okay, Kacchan, it wasn't your fault. Remember, Death Arms always says that you can't know when your quirk will show up, so things like these are bound to happen!"
"Yeah, I know."
"I'm really happy for you, Kacchan."
A smile, matching Deku's. "I know."
"You're gonna be an awesome hero."
"Well, duh."
---
"Did'ya hear? Izuku doesn't have a quirk at all! He's quirkless."
"How's he gonna be a hero without a quirk?"
"Aw, that's so sad!"
---
"Holdon, holdon, I wanna get this on camera, Bakugou." Tsubasa.
"Shut your mouth, don't you dare." Katsuki.
"How old is that thing, anyway? It's a relic." Aiko.
"C'mon, Kacchan, I didn't copy you, really!" Deku.
"Then how'd you ace that test, huh? I was the only other one with a perfect score. It was supposed to be just me. You must've cheated! "
"I didn't! Really, I studied really hard for - hey, that's mine!" He's crying.
Aiko dumping the contents of Deku's stupid yellow backpack over the ground. "Really? I don't see any study sheets in here."
"Of course not, they're at home! Give that back - hey, c'mon, give it back!" Deku trying to grab his backpack, Aiko using his long-ass fingers to keep it just beyond his reach.
"You want it, you're gonna have to take it from me."
Deku jumps to grab it, stumbles, falls on top of Aiko. It's clearly an accident.
Aiko throws the first punch.
Afterwards, once Aiko and Tsubasa have pissed off, Deku finally uncurls and starts collecting his things.
Katsuki just stares. Deku really couldn't do anything, could he?
He loops his stupid backpack over his shoulder, and stands, with his back to Katsuki. It was the last time Katsuki could remember that happening.
"...why'd you let them do that, Kacchan?" His voice is strangely steady, but Katsuki knows he's still crying. Stupid never ending tear ducts.
He doesn't know what to say in reply, so instead, he scoffs and storms off.
Stupid useless Deku.
---
When Katsuki woke up that morning, everything was the same. Nothing was different. It was just another Friday. Same ceiling, same All Might poster, same alarm clock telling him to get up, damn it, it's morning.
He crawls out of bed, already angry. What a great way to start the day.
Stumble to the bathroom. Slam the door.
Brush teeth. Shower. Uniform. Phone. Backpack.
Head downstairs, open the fridge. Orange juice.
His parents looking at him like his dog just died.
Because that's how all shitty things start.
"Oh, Katsuki, I'm sorry." His mom says, wringing her hands. She never does that.
He doesn't know how to respond, so he doesn't. He drinks his orange juice.
"I know the two of you haven't been - as close, lately. But I know how much he meant to you, when you were younger, and-"
"What the hell are you on about?" Katsuki interrupts, something cold and furious settling in his chest.
Something about parents and never getting to the damn point.
"Oh." She stops dead in her tracks.
His dad chokes. "You haven't seen the news, kiddo?"
"What news? What's wrong with you?"
The glass of orange juice is warming in his white-knuckled grip, hints of dread sneaking into his chest.
His parents look pale and tired.
There's no breakfast to be seen - whatever'd happened, it was more important.
Disruptive.
Dread-inducing.
"Here, sit down, sit down."
"I don't wann'o."
They stare at each other for a few moments. His dad gives up first. "Katsuki, your friend, Izuku,"
...and the dread shatters, replaced instantaneously with irritation and maybe even hatred.
He's what this is all about?
Damn.
Here his parents are, getting all bothered over damn Deku. Katsuki scoffs, ready to spew every damn thought on his mind. "You're freakin' out over-"
"There was a villain attack, Katsuki. He was on his way home from school, and there weren't any heroes around to stop it, and - he's gone, Katsuki."
It's like a slap to the face, like ripping off the bandaid.
Finally, the point.
But then...maybe he wasn't ready for it so soon after all.
Hold on.
Hold on.
"Pray that you'll be born with a quirk in your next life, and take a swan dive off the roof of the building!"
"The shit?" He spits, the first phrase that comes to mind. The first semblance of a reaction.
Disbelief, maybe.
Fury, definitely.
"By the time the heroes got there-"
"No, no, wait. When you say he's gone," It's pretty easy to wrap his mind around. Deku's dead, or some shit. Doesn't mean it sounds right in his head. Doesn't mean it's believable. "what'd'ya mean by that?"
"He's... he died, Katsuki."
---
It's all over the damn news.
A middle school kid, murdered by a villain.
Deku didn't just die - he drowned.
The villain's quirk made him some kind of liquid - even if shitty Deku could fight, he wouldn't have been able to touch the guy.
There weren't any heroes around to help, and...
...they never caught the villain.
Katsuki crushes his stupid old camera and blows up the pieces.
He doesn't cry, he doesn't scream, he doesn't say a word.
He doesn't want to, doesn't need to, he doesn't care.
He hates the damn nerd.
....hated?
---
School is quiet the next time he shows up, three days later.
The past three days have been the worst days of his life. Auntie Inko had come over and spent the whole weekend sobbing in his mom's arms - they all knew Deku was the only family she had left.
We're family, Inko, we're family, his mom had sobbed, when Auntie Inko had said through tears that she was so alone, now.
It'd hurt Katsuki's chest to watch - made him feel guilty and shitty and maybe even a little pissed off.
He wished it hadn't, and was glad to get out of the house when classes resumed at the start of the week - but even now, he can't escape the shit feeling lingering over his shoulder.
Eyes on the back of his head.
Whispers. People talking, spreading rumors.
"...quirkless."
"...predictable."
"...said he should've jumped."
"...told ya."
His homeroom class goes silent as he walks in. His teacher gives him a look that he hates. It's close to accusatory.
He growls under his breath and sits down, chucking his backpack under his desk.
Smoke lingers in the air all throughout the no-doubt mandated lecture on safety and self defense and grief-counseling and bullshit.
God knows all the teachers had been eager for Deku to graduate and move on in his stupid useless life just four days ago, considering all the damn trouble he'd stir up in classes by just frickin' existing - so why are they acting all sad 'n shit now?
The whispers start up again in third period.
"...gave up."
"...sad."
"...bet he wanted to..."
"Couldn't....a hero."
He can feel something building up. It's not that he feels responsible for Deku's death, or has any regrets.
He isn't, and he doesn't, so he doesn't feel bad about anything at-freakin'-all.
He phases through the day, step by step, no thoughts, hearing nothing.
And then, on the way home, Aiko suggests that Deku had taken Katsuki's advice to heart - that he'd probably given up the second the villain showed.
"Pray that you'll be born with a quirk in your next life, and take a swan dive off the roof of the building!"
Katsuki doesn't think, he just...punches the dude in the jaw.
It's instant, shocking even to himself.
Fire shoots through his knuckles - grounding, white hot pain. Words come out before he can think about them, before he knows he's even speaking. "What's fuckin' wrong with you? He's dead, you damn-"
"So?" Aiko spits back, blood splattering the ground. He's on his ass, his lip bleeding a steady trickly of blood onto the white lining of his uniform collar. "He's dead, and now you're takin' back all that stuff you said? Is that it?" It's scathing. Hate-filled, spiteful. "Well guess what, Bakugou, you can't. You said that shit, and he died the same damn day. We all know what you told him, the day he died. Bet you feel real sour, huh?"
Hatred shoots through Katsuki's head, blinding, deafening, red clouding everything. He's gonna kill this damn asshole-
And then he's falling - Aiko swept his legs. He slams into the ground, knocking the side of his head into the pavement.
Stars blink in his vision, bright and overwhelming.
They fight. Tsubasa gets mixed in at some point, trying to pull them apart, grabbing Katsuki by the neck, wings wrapping around his chest.
Katsuki bites his wing, clamping down and ripping.
Katsuki wins.
He always wins.
He didn't even have to use his damn quirk.
When he gets home, he goes right up to his room.
Later - he doesn't know how long later, maybe hours, maybe minutes - his mom comes in with a first aid kit.
She doesn't say a word as she patches up his face. It wasn't the first time this had happened. She knows him too well.
"Why are you being so mean? You're making him cry, Kacchan!"
"Fought with Aiko." He says, forcing it out. She won't ask if he doesn't want to talk about it, but she will call around and find out what happened herself. Better to just tell the truth. "He said - he said some bad shit about Deku, and I punched him."
She doesn't say anything, just nods. Damn straight, her face seems to say.
"I bullied him, mom. I hated him. I still do." ...is what Katsuki doesn't say.
It sounds stupid, weak, fuckin' dumb, even in his own head.
What kind of moron hates a dead person?
And why does he care so much, anyway?
He's given this much of a shit before. He'd get home and forget about ever scorching the damn nerd, because it wasn't important.
Deku wasn't important.
He was... a quirkless nobody.
Someone so useless, he shouldn't ever even talk to Katsuki.
Annoying as hell, always getting in the way, always frickin' losing.
Irrelevant. A damn pebble in his path that he could kick out of the way whenever he wanted to.
...and yet, it almost seems like, in such short a time...
Now, when he thinks of Deku...he can't help but imagine a brick wall.
An insurmountable barrier, blocking his way.
And it's driving him insane.
How the fuck could that damn nerd be more annoying dead than he was living?
But then - what if that brick wall was what he always saw? What if that's why he always hated Deku so much?
Hated?
Hates.
Fucking hates Deku so damn much.
He clenches his fists, twisting the bedsheets in his hands.
Damn it.
Damn it.
"Why'd he have to go and die?" Katsuki spits, frustration and hate and everything ugly twisting in his stomach. "It's not fair."
Deku had to go and die, and now everything's all fucked up.
"I know," his mom says, gently putting a sticky on his face. She's always so damn gentle when she patches him up, such a sharp contrast to their regular loud banter. "it wasn't fair. Life isn't fair, sometimes. Villains, they-"
"No, hag, that's not what I mean." He shoves himself away from her. "You don't get it. No one gets it."
How can he explain the stupidity of this whole situation? How can he describe how monumentally fucked this shit is? "He wanted to go to U.A, mom. He wanted to be a hero, even though he was a frickin' quirkless nerd. He could've just given up, but he didn't, and that made me so-"
Angry? Fucking furious? Something else?
"...he can't just be dead. He couldn't just die." Words come out fast. He wishes they would stay in his head, but they don't. "That idiot nerd - he's never given up, and it's so damn annoying. He wouldn't have given up. He wouldn't have died. He was so - stupidly determined, even if it was damn pointless. He was... powerless," A conclusion clicks in his mind. Thoughts that were always there, festering and spawning hatred and confusion because of how seemingly conflicting the concepts were. "...but he wasn't weak."
In a society where the strength and potential of a child are based off of their superhuman abilities, how could one without them not be weak? How could Deku be anything other than - worthless? And yet...
"He wasn't, no." His mom says, quietly. "He was strong. Izuku was so strong."
Katsuki feels the sweat on his palms.
It's all bullshit.
Even as...not-weak as Deku might've been...
Some damn show of strength.
Going and dying wasn't strong at all.
How fucking dare he.
"Sometimes these things just happen, Kats. Sometimes there's no one there to help." She pats his knee and stands. "I'll bring up dinner if you don't feel like eating downstairs - Inko's coming over again tonight."
He doesn't reply, and he doesn't go down for dinner.
He scrolls news posts for hours.
His mom brings dinner as promised. It sits on his dresser and makes his room smell like boiled eggs and beef and soup and noodles.
"Sometimes these things just happen, Kats. Sometimes there's no one there to help."
They never caught the villain.
The bastard used Deku as a - what, disguise? - to blend in, then took the nearest train out of the city.
They found Deku's body in an alley half an hour's train ride away from his apartment, and the stupid villain got away.
Katsuki dreams of drowning that night.
---
"I want your end-of-week projects by the end of the day, so turn them in now if you haven't already - physical papers, people. I don't want to be getting emails at ten minutes before midnight with photos of your work, that doesn't even come close to being acceptable-"
The teacher's talking, but Katsuki stares out the window anyway. It's raining. He can already imagine the mud that'll soak into his shoes the whole walk home1.
"Aw, c'mon, Kacchan! It's a rainy day, you can't spend it moping!"
The end-of-day tone plays over the speakers. He scoffs, dragging his backpack out from under the table and slapping his project on the teacher's desk before storming out of class. No one says anything as he passes through the halls.
Hell, no one dares look at him.
Rumors had gotten around that he'd fought with Aiko and Tsubasa, and now he was a social pariah.
He doesn't freakin' care. Junior high is just a phase he has to get through before he can attend U.A. - none of these extras even matter.
And besides, there's only eleven months until graduation, anyway. He just has to focus on the U.A. entrance exam.
"You're gonna be an awesome hero."
"Well, duh. So are you. Now hurry up and get your quirk, so we can be the coolest kids in class together."
"Did'ya hear? Izuku doesn't have a quirk at all! He's quirkless."
"How's he gonna be a hero without a quirk?"
His calves hurt from stepping so viciously. He doesn't care. If walking home from school makes him tired, he'll never get into U.A.
The sidewalk grows into a walking path, long and wide with plenty of room for cyclists and joggers alike.
He walks through a park, past the highway...
...under a bridge...
...over the grate, rainwater trailing downhill...
It's sudden - unexpected.
There's no warning.
No prepare yourself, no clench your asscheeks and prepare, damnit.
The most sickening, nauseous, curl-up-and-die feeling punches him in the gut.
Bile hits the back of his throat, and then he's bending over, gripping his knees, hurling violently into the mud.
Every muscle in his body feels tight, then overwhelmingly weak, and then he's stumbling sideways, falling against the concrete wall of the underpass.
It's a miracle he's still standing at all, really.
"Damn it," he spits, shuddering, gripping the front of his shirt as firmly as he can. His grip feels weak. "What the hell?"
He wipes his face on his sleeve. It's gross. He doesn't care, he feels like shit.
Whatever the shit that was, it came on so suddenly - one second he's fine, the next bent over, his lunch spewed all over the ground.
It trails downhill towards the grate, dripping through the drain and into the city stormwater system.
Shakily, he straightens, doing his best to ignore the pounding post-hurl headache he can feel creeping its way into his skull.
And there, in the back of his mind, is something so...pressing.
Something new, but overwhelmingly important.
It's a thought on the tip of his tongue, and an urge in Katsuki's chest presses him to move.
He's already started scanning the ground when the thought comes to him.
There's...something he should be doing. He dropped something. He needs to find it.
There's not much space in this underpass - really, it couldn't have gone far.
He peruses the mud that's washed under the overpass. It's got to be here somewhere. He remembers it, remembers dropping it, remembers seeing it on the ground before he...
Before... before he what?
Wait. The shit?
"What the hell?" Katsuki repeats, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. What in the ever-loving shit is he even doing?
He takes a step forward to leave the damn hell tunnel he's stumbled into, but - his hands are shaking. His head feels foggy, his body weak, like he's gonna pass out any second.
He can't breathe.
"Yes I can, damnit." He protests, clutching his shirt again, his heart racing as he takes desperate gasps of air.
Is this... a panic attack? He stumbles forward. He has to get home.
But... he looks around again, desperate to find...something that has to be here.
And he sees it. Muddy and wet, but there, right there. He picks it up without even thinking about it.
A notebook.
Hero Analysis for the Future, No. 13.
Beneath the mud, he can see the burnt cover, the starburst marks spreading on both sides.
Katsuki can't help himself. He starts crying, the kind of horrible, chest-raking sobs that would always leave Deku dehydrated and tired.
It's unexplainable, and utterly wretched, and he can't even be angry at the bullshit tears because he feels so fucking shitty.
He wants to be home already, without having to walk anymore. He feels horrible.
He stumbles out from under the overpass, and the sunlight just hurts his eyes.
Fuck this shit.
---
He barely remembers the rest of the walk, but then he's home, and that's his house, and Katsuki feels relieved, wiping at the crocodile tears that won't stop.
He can't focus on his key - it won't go into the lock. His head swims, and on the fourth attempt, he gives up and just pounds on the door. He can feel sweat trailing down the inside of his collar. He's hot, in the kind of heat that's just beneath his skin, leaving him feeling like a fucking furnace and shivering at the same time. Bile crawls up his throat. What is wrong with him?
The door opens. His mom stands in the doorway, her apron on - she was making dinner. Her eyes widen. "Kats-" she starts.
"I think - 'm sick-" Katsuki manages, before hurling into her gardenias.
---
When he wakes up, he's buried in his futon, early morning sunlight pouring through the cracks in his window shutters.
Hero Analysis for the Future, No. 13, is on the floor next to him. It's dried out somewhat. He looks away.
He's in clean pajamas, a cold press on his forehead. Someone must have changed it recently.
"Mom?" He calls. His voice cracks, his throat burning as he speaks.
After a minute, his door opens, and his mom peeks in. "Morning, kid. How do you feel?"
"Like I fuckin' died."
She snorts. "No shit. You were up puking half the night."
"I was?" He doesn't remember that.
"Yep - I was about ready to take you to the hospital, but Inko came over and helped get your fever down." She ruffles his hair. "Dunno what the hell you caught - some kind of stomach bug, maybe?"
Katsuki nods wordlessly, his eyes drifting down to the palms of his hands. He'd felt fine all day - it wasn't until he was heading home that he started feeling so horrible. Vaguely, he recalls the suddenness of it all, the gut-punch shock. He shudders.
"Well, I've already called your teachers." There's something in her tone that suggests there was a good bit of shouting and hassling involved. A distant part of Katsuki misses the laxity the teachers had for him before he bullied one of their students into the Musutafu headlines for fucking dying. The majority part thinks it's all fucking bullshit and they should die - but that's the kind of thinking that left Deku alone in that alley to get murdered in the first place. "It's poor timing," the hag continues, "but it can't be helped. As long as you complete the rest of your assignments due before the end of next week, they won't hold you to this week's deadlines. In the meantime, get some rest, kid. I'll bring you some breakfast in a bit, if you feel like you can stomach it."
He nods dumbly. It seems to be the only damn thing he can do.
She leaves, and he stares at the ceiling.
...Deku.
Honestly, the whole puking, finding-your-dead-ex-best-friend's-notebook-in-a-tunnel-to-hell thing felt a little more like a fever dream than reality - but when he turns his head, there it is, as potently there as it had been five minutes ago.
Before he can second guess himself, he sits up and sets it in his lap.
The edges of the pages crinkle as he opens it, having warped as it dried - a direct opposite to the centers of the pages, which range anywhere from ill damp and soggy.
Deku's handwriting is smudged severely in some places, not as much in others. It was clear where he'd been writing in pen and where he'd been writing in pencil.
Though not much else is clear, as a good portion of the handwriting has been rendered illegible by mud stains.
Generally, it's in pretty shit condition.
His hands warm, and steam begins to rise from the paper as it dries.
Kamui Woods - Lacquered Chain Prison
Great for restraining whole groups of villains at once!!! (Or really big ones!) (ง •_•)ง
---
Two days later, Katsuki's fever breaks.
When he wakes up for lunch, his mom tells him Inko had gone home, reassured that Katsuki would be alright.
He does his best to ignore the pile of notebooks sitting on his table.
Before she can head back downstairs, Katsuki scoffs, calling her attention while refusing to make eye contact. "Why'd she leave those here?"
"She figured you'd appreciate having them."
He glares at the wall. "I don't. Why the hell would I want them? They were Deku's, damnit, they're all full of his stupid nerd shit."
If she gives him any looks, Katsuki can't see them - but she doesn't grant his brash reply a response.
He hears the door shut, hears the footsteps down the stairs.
He doesn't care.
He doesn't want Deku's shitty nerd books.
He doesn't.
There's movement in the kitchen downstairs.
Katsuki reaches for the first notebook on the pile, flipping to the first page.
Hero Analysis for the Future, No. 1
Kacchan!!!
Quirk: EXPLOSIONS!!!!!! (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧
---
"It'll be good to get out of the house, Katsuki. And anyway, you wanted to start training for that U.A. entrance exam, didn't you? It's in what, nine months? What better way to start getting your strength back up than a sunny daytrip to the market? There's not one place as pretty as that market, I swear."
"I got it, mom." Katsuki growls, shoving his feet into his shoes. "I'll be back before dinner."
"If you start feeling sick-"
"I said I've got it, hag." He slams the front door. It rattles behind him, and he glares down at the list in his hand.
Pork shoulder cutlet - ask Mr. Masao for the special cutlets he has in the back. Be nice damn it
Rice wine (Mirin), you'll know it when you see it.
Panko
Dashi stock
Scallops
"Katsudon." Katsuki mutters, before he can stop himself. He hadn't been thinking it, had barely even considered what the ingredients could be used for - the word just came to his mind.
Now that he thought about it, that was probably what his mom intended to make.
It was strangely appealing, in a way Katsuki couldn't recognize.
Katsudon was...fine.
Not bad, but he never had any strong regard for it one way or the other.
And yet... in this moment, it seems like the only thing he could ever want to eat.
"Yeahhh, katsudon! Thanks, mom!" Deku says, laughing his head off as he runs around the kitchen.
"You want to help, Katsuki?" Auntie Inko says, pulling up another stool beside Deku's. He's peeling onions.
"Heck yeah!" He says, climbing onto the stool.
"Katsudon's my favorite!" Deku laughs, shaking Katsuki's shoulder back and forth.
"You're getting onion crap all over me!"
"Your eyes are all watery, Kacchan, are you alright?"
"It's the onions, shitnerd!"
"Excuse me?" Someone says, and Katsuki startles out of - whatever the shitfuck that was.
He's standing in the middle of the sidewalk, just two blocks away from the train station.
There's a kid standing almost directly in front of him, waving a hand in his face.
"You alright, man?" It's a guy in a junior high uniform. His stupid dark hair falls to his shoulders, and for a minute, Aiko is all Katsuki can see.
He bristles. He can almost imagine a bloody lip, a sneering, hateful look, words that are too true to not hurt just as much as they're meant to- "Who the hell are you?" He spits, and it's ten times harsher than probably deserved by this random extra on the sidewalk.
The guy backs up, holding up his hands placatingly. "Hey, man, it's all good. Nothing's more manly than letting your emotions out every once in a while-"
And it's just past the wrong side of too fucking irritating.
Katsuki grabs the front of the guy's shirt, dragging him within an inch of his face. "The hell are you talkin' about, you damn extra-"
"Woah, hey, dude, I'm sorry, you just - you seemed like you needed someone to talk to, and it's'not like I've got anything better to do, so, y'know, I figured-"
It's only then, mid-ramble from...fuckin' Random Dude - that Katsuki feels the wetness on his face. He was crying?
Why the fuck has he been crying so damn much?
He never cries.
He's not - he's not weak.
He drops the kid, scrubbing at his face in frustration. "I'm frickin' fine." He brushes past, red-hot irritation spiking in his mind.
Get it together, Katsuki.
There's a hesitation for a moment, but then the footsteps are following him, slow, then quicker. "Y'know, crying doesn't make you any less manly."
"You got a death wish, Dumb Hair?" Katsuki spits, crumpling the list in his hands before shoving it into one of his pockets. Hold it for too long, and it'd probably end up burnt. Just who the hell does this kid think he is?
"My name is Kirishima, and my hair's not dumb." Kirishima protests, still following him.
"Good for you, you're in denial." The only other moron Katsuki's ever known to have hair practically just like that is Aiko. And Aiko's a total fucking dumbass shitbag - so yeah, the hair's dumb. "Don't you have anywhere to be?"
Kirishima seems to consider this, then presses on, full steam ahead. "Well, no, not really. What about you, where are you going?"
"Like I'd tell you - I don't even know you." Katsuki scoffs, stopping as they reach a crossroads.
He mashes the cross button. Kirishima slams into his back.
His eye twitches.
"Sorry!" Kirishima says, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment. "You were just walking so fast, I didn't think you'd stop so suddenly-"
Katsuki rounds on him, fury on his face. Kirishima doesn't even flinch. "Just piss off, would you? I don't need anyone to 'talk to'. I'm just fine, thanks."
"Well, yeah, but you haven't even told me your name."
"Cross now." A tinny voice says.
Katsuki scoffs. A variety of responses cross his mind - like, I'm not some kind of charity case, moron, or I met you, like, not even a minute ago or Why do you care so damn much? or Take a hint and fuck off, damn extra!
But somewhere along the way, his mind's connection to his mouth got lost in frickin' translation, because "Kacchan," is what he says.
He stares in shock for a moment, eyes widening in disbelief and fury.
Kirishima grins, a huge, sharp-toothed smile that, strangely, isn't menacing in the slightest. "Alright! Nice to meet you, Kacchan!"
"That's not my name." Katsuki spits, a sick, churning feeling sparking in his stomach. "Don't call me that."
What in the everloving shitfuck??
Kirishima looks confused, but shrugs, grinning again. "Okay, then what should I call you?"
Not Kacchan. Never Kacchan. "...Bakugou." He concedes, crossing the street and skipping down the train station steps two at a time. If this damn moron's gonna follow him, the last thing he wants is to be called frickin' - Kacchan the entire time.
Fuck no.
And of course, following him is exactly what Kirishima continues to do.
"Great! So where we headed, Bakugou?"
Katsuki tunes him out, because holy shit, why the hell did he say Kacchan for?
Of all things, no way in hell that shit came out of his mouth. He must be getting sick again. He does kinda feel feverish - which is just fucking great. Just when he gets strong enough to get the hell out of bed and start training - a chance to get into UA is a once-in-a-god-damn-lifetime thing, and no way is he gonna miss it because he couldn't stop puking his guts out for a single damn day-
"Did you say you're trying for UA?" Kirishima interrupts, looking at Katsuki with interest etched into every line in his face.
Katsuki stops dead in his tracks, eye twitching as he processes.
"Sorry," Kirishima says sheepishly, as if it'd help. "you were muttering, and I kinda overheard-"
"Shut your trap, shitmoron. I don't care."
He doesn't. Not at all. Who cares if he just randomly started spewing bullshit word vomit under his breath? Not him!
"Well, I just think it's super manly, y'know? I mean, UA's super cool!"
Finally, something he can agree with. "Yeah. It's the frickin' best of the best, as far as hero courses go. All Might went there, so it's the only place good enough for me."
The train to downtown Kamino pulls into view, and he swipes his boarding pass.
And - Kirishima does too.
And follows him onto the damn train.
The sick feeling in Katsuki's stomach churns. He wipes a line of sweat from his forehead. It's not as bad as the first time he felt this way, under that bridge - but it's still uncomfortable, like he's building up to be violently ill. He just hopes this moron has found someone else to bother by then.
An hour and a half later, they're stepping off the train, and Kirishima's still talking.
"I'd wanted to try for UA too," Kirishima trails off, his cheery demeanor fading into something that Katsuki can't place.
"Yeah? And what stopped you?" He asks, shoving his hands in his pockets as they cross the street to the market.
Not that he cares.
Some extra like this wouldn't get in anyway.
"I dunno, I guess I just... well, my quirk really isn't that great."
Katsuki audibly scoffs, his face scrunching up in disgust. It's a damn shitty excuse. Deku didn't even have a quirk, and he wasn't gonna let that stop him from getting in. "That's a stupid excuse for giving up."
Kirishima glares. "I'm serious, man. My quirk's useless for hero work - I can't even stop a bully from picking on someone."
"Why are you being so mean? You're making him cry, Kacchan! If you keep on hurting him, uh, I'll, uh - I'll stop you myself!"
"Bullshit." Katsuki says absentmindedly, he's shopping now, looking for scallops.
"Sure, okay man. Maybe you're right." Kirishima says, brushing off the topic of his quirk. "What makes you so sure you'll get in?"
"Because I'm the shit. The frickin' best of the best." Katsuki scoffs, rolling his eyes. Shouldn't it be obvious? "I'm not just gonna get into the UA hero course, I'm gonna dominate the entrance exam, be the top of the whole damn school. I'm gonna be a hero and kill any villains that get in my way and win every time, because I'm just that good."
"Ooh, you better back up those words with actions, buddy." Kirishima says, grinning.
"You think I can't?" He spits, threateningly waving a pork cutlet in Kirishima's face.
Again with the placating hands. "No, not at all. Just - it's a lot to live up to, huh?"
Another scoff. Man, this dude's a total moron. "Listen, shit for brains. If I can't beat a bunch of other junior high kids at a stupid exam, there's no way in hell I'll win against villains." He waves down Mr. Masao, putting on his I'm Mitsuki's son please give me your best cutlets for practically free face.
It's annoying as shit, but it always works.
Mr. Masao smiles back, and, with a nod, ducks into the back of his shop, where it connects to his storage and living space.
Sucker.
"I'm aiming for the top because I'm gonna be the top, someday." Katsuki finishes, with a shrug. An unfamiliar feeling creeps into his chest, and he keeps talking before he's even thought of the words. "It's not just some dream, it's my damn future. If you think you having some weak-ass quirk can stop you from getting into U.A, then I guess that's just the standard you're holding yourself to - and that's pretty damn pathetic. Just do better, moron. Don't hold yourself back, or you'll only ever be as shitty as you assume you are."
It's so strange, so fundamentally different from everything he's ever believed, every way he's ever acted, that Katsuki actually takes a second to think about what he's just said. What the hell? He's the best because of how epic his quirk is. He's going to be great because he's got a powerful quirk, one perfect for hero work. If Kirishima doesn't, how the hell is he supposed to be a hero? This is Deku levels of positive optimistic bullshit.
Kirishima, for his part, looks shocked, as if Katsuki had just slapped him across the face. After a minute, he tears up, clutching a fist to his chest - what the hell is wrong with his skin? "That's so manly," he sobs.
It's gross. Katsuki hardly notices.
Kirishima's arms are - strangely rigid, covered in sharp edges. Is that - his quirk?
When he notices Katsuki staring at his arms, his eyes widen. "Oh, yeah. This is my quirk. It's called Hardening - I can make my body all... solid." He knocks on his head in demonstration. It sounds like knocking two rocks together.
Katsuki just stares at him. It takes a second for him to process the quirk, then compare it to all the shit the guy had said before. After a minute of consideration, he decides Kirishima really is an idiot. "You're a whole new brand of dumbass, you know that? My god - whining about how that's not good for hero work - do you know how stupid you are?" He turns to Mr. Masao, who had returned with a prime pork cutlet wrapped in paper.
Shitty Hair wipes at his eyes. His hands are already back to normal. "It only lasts a few seconds, and even then, it's not that strong! If someone hits me hard enough, I'll crack and bleed."
"So get better, damn idiot. Quirk training is a thing. With a quirk like that, you can charge headfirst into dangerous situations no one else can, without having to worry about getting yourself killed. You just need the frickin' guts to get there. Housefires, collapsing buildings, villains no one else can get close to - if you get good at hand-to-hand combat, you could be a great hero." Katsuki mutters, barely stopping for breath. Then... "That's if you can get your head out of your ass."
The sick feeling is back, building stronger throughout his sudden tangent, churning in his stomach like poisonous fury. Katsuki tilts his head back, breathing deeply, in through his nose, out through his mouth. He has to finish his shopping so he could get home and die, damnit.
Kirishima looks like he's gonna start crying again. Katsuki really fuckin' hopes he doesn't. "You're not gonna start crying again, are you? Moron."
"No..." Kirishima sniffs, scrubbing at his eyes. "Thank you."
"Shut up, I don't wanna hear it. I don't even know you." It's not like he was consciously making the decisions to say what he had. It just came out of his mouth before he could stop it - something that was becoming a pattern, and honestly pissing him off.
After a few minutes of shopping in silence, in which Katsuki struggles to find the 'you'll know it when you see it' rice wine, Kirishima speaks up again.
"Y'know, you're brash and all, but I think deep down, you're a good guy, Bakugou."
"Pray you'll be born with a quirk in your next life, and take a swan dive off the roof of the building!"
"I said I don't wanna hear it, Shitty Hair." Katsuki spits, his eye twitching as he resists the urge to puke then and there. "You just met me like, twenty minutes ago."
"Let's exchange phone numbers."
"I'd rather die."
"I know your surname, I'll just show up at your house."
"I'll blast your face off."
"You can't, my quirk's incredible."
"Two seconds ago you were whining about how shitty it is. Get a grip."
"Hey, you good, man? You look like you're about to hurl."
"Where the hell is the rice wine?"
The sick feeling builds until Katsuki feels like maybe throwing up would be a mercy.
His head swims, everything's foggy, and - he can't breathe.
Distantly, he hears Kirishima saying his name, but it all sounds underwater.
A distinct feeling overwhelms everything else - a pressing sort of urgency he'd only ever felt once before, in that damn alley. And yet, this time - it feels more foreboding. More a warning, than an instruction.
Something bad is about to happen.
And it makes him feel like he's fucking dying.
"Shitty - hair-" He starts, gripping what he thinks should be the front of Kirishima's shirt.
Something explodes.
It's deafening, more so than the ringing in his ears. The ground shakes, and Kirishima tips, losing balance, falling, dragging Katsuki down with him.
There's screaming in the background.
"Where are the heroes?"
"He's got a kid!"
Go, Kacchan.
Katsuki pukes.
Get up. Don't let him die too, Kacchan.
He grips his head - it feels like his skull is splitting open.
"Isn't that the villain that killed that kid last month?! Wasn't All Might going after him?!"
His eyes snap open. He's on his knees, looking down into a pile of his own sick.
Kirishima is holding his shoulder, trying to ground him. "Hey, you alright, man? We better get out of here - we don't want to get in the way of the heroes."
They never caught the villain.
He's here.
Katsuki thinks nothing, hears nothing.
He's on his feet, he's moving. The cacophony grows louder with each step.
"Dude, where are you going? You just, like, puked all over me, and now you're heading directly towards a villain-" Kirishima protests, grabbing his arm.
Katsuki shakes him off.
"You're gonna be an awesome hero."
"...why'd you let them do that, Kacchan?"
Don't let him die too, Kacchan.
He stumbles. Kirishima catches him, steadies him, tries to get him to slow down. He doesn't.
There's a crowd. They're gathered around the entrance to a single lane street.
Smoke rises into the sky.
People murmur about the kid's quirk splitting a gas line, about it catching fire and decimating two buildings.
The whole street is on fire.
And, in the middle of it all - the sludge villain. A gross, sewage green, viscous, his body evading every attack. His eyes bulge out of nothingness, giant and taunting and so self-satisfied. He killed a kid, a middle-schooler. He killed Deku. And he has another kid in his clutches, now.
There are already Pros on the scene.
Death Arms - "Can't get a grip on his weird body!"
Mt. Lady - "My only weakness! I need at least a two lane road if I'm gonna make my way through here."
Kamui Woods - "Fire and wood don't exactly make a good combination. I'll let someone else stop this guy."
Backdraft - "Don't look at me. I've got my hands full here - where are the fire trucks?"
"We'll do damage control until someone with the right powers shows up."
"What are the heroes doing?" Kirishima says, horrified. "That kid's gonna die, and they're just sitting back and letting it happen!"
"Sometimes these things just happen, Kats. Sometimes there's no one there to help."
There's a face in the midst of the mire. There are hands grabbing at the ground. Long fingers, hooking into chinks in the concrete, trying desperately to pull his body out of the sludge. Dark, shoulder-length hair, in that stupid cut. Wide, terrified eyes, wet with panicked tears.
It's Aiko. What the hell is he doing here?
Deku didn't just die - he drowned.
The villain's quirk made him some kind of liquid - Deku couldn't fight back if he couldn't touch the guy.
There weren't any heroes around to help.
They never caught the villain.
"You're gonna be an awesome hero."
Don't let him die, Kacchan.
His feet move before he can think. He's dragging himself out of Kirishima's grip, pressing through the crowd, bursting past the line keeping them back.
"No, you idiot! Stop!"
"You're gonna get yourself killed!"
What am I doing?
Why am I running?
Why can't I stop?
Fire leaps at his skin. It's uncomfortably hot, but it doesn't burn him - a perk of having a fire-based quirk. He keeps his fists clenched, not letting his sweat ignite.
The villain locks onto him, eyes widening, then a grin on his face. "You're toast, kid!"
Can't use my quirk. Fire and explosions don't hurt this guy, it'd only make things worse. Gotta distract him, give Aiko a chance to breathe.
But how?
Hero Analysis for the Future, No. 13 - Page 25.
His bag of groceries - Katsuki had moved so fast, he hadn't thought to drop it. It's still in his hand.
He's gonna kill this damn villain.
Still running, yelling furiously, he whips his arm around, hurling the bag and all its contents directly into the villain's eye.
The villain wails, throwing it's - head? - back, his sludge recoiling from the pain.
Aiko's head breaks free, and he chokes, coughs, gasps, takes in big, desperate gulps of air. "Ba-kugou?"
"Yeah, yeah, thank me later, ya moron." Katsuki says, digging his heels into the ground. He sinks his hands into the sludge, hooking his hands under Aiko's arms and pulling. "Goin' and getting yourself grabbed by a damn villain...frickin' idiot."
"Yeah, like I tried to get attacked by this guy," Aiko coughs, his fingers extending from the mirk and hooking onto Katsuki's shoulders. It's hard to tell where the tears end and the sludge starts, on his face.
The villain is still blinking, trying to get the plastic bag dislodged from the wet surface of his eye. Every time he blinks, it slips in deeper, a film of brown plastic. The perfect pork cutlet lies wet and muddy on the ground. Poor Mr. Masao.
It's hard to pull Aiko out - the ground is slippery. If Katsuki slides forward, he'll go straight into the sludge. He can't.
Aiko is heavy, and the sludge is thick - it's like dragging someone out of water with weights tied around their ankles actively dragging them down.
Katsuki is pulling hard. If he lets go now, Aiko will get sucked back in, completely submerged.
Aiko will drown.
Katsuki's slipping.
A wall of fire has risen between them and the heroes. There's no help coming.
"Don't - don't let go, Katsuki, don't let go, please-" Aiko begs, panic rising again as he sees Katsuki start to slip towards him.
"Shut up, I won't," Katsuki spits back, pulling harder.
The ground is wet with remnants of the sludgey crap. If he tries to step back to clear footing, he could lose ground and get thrown into the sludge with Aiko. Then the heroes would have two dead corpses to try and retrieve, instead of just the damn one.
He can't stop himself from slipping forward.
The villain is dragging them both in.
He's gonna get caught.
They're gonna drown.
Damn it.
Damn it, damn it!
There are arms around his stomach, pulling him back.
"It's like you said," Kirishima shouts in his ear, a wild grin on his stupid face. "With a quirk like mine, I can charge headfirst into dangerous situations without having to worry about getting myself killed!"
Katsuki laughs, a hysterical, crazy sort of laugh. "Finally got your head out of your ass, Shitty Hair?"
It's adrenaline, and hysteria, and maybe a little insanity - but it's easier to put his full strength into pulling Aiko now, when he's not actively slipping forward the more he pulls.
Aiko's out to his waist, now, doing his best to kick against the slime, even as his breath begins to come in sobs.
Kirishima drags them back the more progress they make, keeping them standing, keeping them away, being an anchor.
Katsuki pulls for all he's worth.
It's not enough.
The villain rolls his plastic-covered eye back in his head, reorganizing his priorities and focusing on the three of them with his one good eye. "I'm done playing with you, kid. You're dead!" A column of sludge rises out of his main body, posed to envelop them in suffocating mirk.
"Save the kids! This thing'll kill them!"
In that moment, seeing the tunnel of mirk start to shoot towards them, to kill him, Katsuki feels a strange sense of disappointment, overwhelming the fear, the panic, the hatred. A sense of frustration, as if he's letting someone down.
It's not enough - that I tried. Damn it, Deku.
Kirishima buries his face in Katsuki's back.
Aiko locks eyes with Katsuki, terrified, so, so scared.
Katsuki braces for an enveloping impact, taking a deep breath while he still can.
"I really am pathetic." All Might says, on their right, a towering seven foot figure. He grabs Aiko and Katsuki's arms in one hand, effortlessly pulling them out and away from the mirk. Kirishima holds on for dear life.
"I see now - I wasn't living up to my own ideals! Pros are always risking their lives! That's the true test of a hero!"
The villain's eyes go wide. "Damn you, All Might!"
"Detroit - smash!"
Faintly, as he grabs onto the back of Kirishima's shirt to stop the moron from blowing away, Katsuki feels a warmth spread through his chest - a sort of physical relief, the nausea slipping away.
Thank you, Kacchan.
It's not as much a voice he hears in his head - rather, a feeling of gratitude, of thanks, sinking into his mind.
"You're welcome, Deku." Katsuki mutters, as it begins to rain.